


Pulse

by CharmsDealer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, HS, M/M, Science Experiment, gratuitous lap pillow, pulse taking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmsDealer/pseuds/CharmsDealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short oneshot based around taking pulses: Castiel is doing an extra-credit science experiment in the nearby highschool. Dean isn't exactly doing what he's told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulse

“Alright,” Coach Singer announced loudly, well used to making his voice heard above the noise in the gym. “Gather ‘round. Today’s warm-up is going to be a little different: some boys from St. James’ junior high are doing an extra-credit science project and they asked if they could use some of you as guinea pigs...”

Fifteen heads swiveled in Castiel and Balthazar’s direction. Most of the boys looked bored, but there were one or two who seemed more open, even curious. Castiel hugged his box of equipment to his chest. His mouth had suddenly gone quite dry.

He felt Balthazar nudge his side gently. “Buck up, Cassie, they’re not going to eat you,” he said. He leaned into Castiel slightly so he could speak quietly in his ear. “This was your idea, remember?”

Castiel pursed his lips. At the time, he hadn’t thought about the potential drawbacks; the boys on the Lawrence High soccer team were only a year or two older than Castiel or Balthazar, but they were already starting to fill out. Their developing muscles and figures carried hints of the men they were growing up to be, and Castiel couldn’t deny his interest.

Their strong, athletic bodies were _fascinating_ to his fifteen-year-old mind, and he wanted to catalogue what he was seeing, file it away where he could linger on images of well-toned thighs and broad shoulders for hours and no one would know.

But that was all it was; interest. Castiel was shy about somehow exposing himself, and of being misunderstood. Balthazar was more adept than him at keeping himself cool in social situations, but Castiel just seemed to make things unnecessarily awkward.

“Since you’re all back from mid-term break, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to see who was keeping up with their training. It’s our first game in two weeks, so I hope none of you have been slacking off.”

There were a few chuckles and one or two boys pulled faces at each other.

“I’m going to need two volunteers to go first,” Coach Singer said, crossing his arms.

Castiel realised with a jolt he had been staring quite intently when one of the boys cocked his head slightly, green-eyed gaze shifting from otherwise uninterested to speculative. Castiel turned beet red and looked away, the lingering image of hard calf muscles teasing him.

 “Actually, I’m starting to think that this is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Balthazar smiled, oozing confidence. “Bags the one in the tank top,” he said breezily, strolling toward the left side of the room.

Castiel hesitated. The boy with green eyes was on his side of the room, and he had _definitely_ caught Castiel staring.

“You going to be okay son?” Coach Singer asked, patting Castiel on the shoulder. Castiel nodded once. “If any of these boys give you any sass, make sure you tell me; I’ll set them straight.” He winked. His phone went off in his pocket and he fished it out with a sigh, glancing briefly at the name before he decided to take it. “Don’t be ijits while I’m gone,” he said, exiting the door to the gym.

Castiel squared his shoulders. He was being ridiculous. He marched to his side of the room and put his box down. He quickly began to pull out stopwatches, pulse oximeters and his clipboard. He bent over to search for his pen, which had settled at the bottom of the box somewhere. He was feeling around for it when he heard a voice coming from behind him.

“Hey.”

He jerked up. It was the boy with green eyes. Castiel mumbled an apologetic greeting. His fingers fumbled as he tried to untangle two of the stopwatches from one another other, and he felt acutely self-aware.

“Looks like I’m you’re first volunteer,” the older teen said. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel had to tilt his head up to meet Dean’s gaze; Dean’s plush lips were quirked slightly and his eyes swept over Castiel in one long movement, causing something to clench in his chest. He couldn’t look away.

“Castiel,” he replied curtly.

After a few seconds, Dean finally broke eye contact. “So, _Cas_ ,” he said, snagging one of the stopwatches on his walk past, “What do you want me to do?” He tilted his chin up at Castiel, somewhat arrogantly, Castiel thought. He frowned slightly.

“I need to measure your pulse rate at rest, and for that I need you to lie down quietly for five minutes. If you think you’re capable.” Dean tossed the stopwatch in the air and caught it, looking as though he had no intention of doing what he was told. He side-eyed Castiel, testing him.

“Now, please,” Castiel added with some assertion. He raised his clipboard.

Dean gave him a slight shrug, rolling his shoulders as he walked. “So, you just want me to lay down?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, waiting for Dean to comply.

“That’s all?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“...Do I get a pillow?”

“No; I did not bring a pillow, ” Castiel said. “Please hold out your hand.”

Dean held up one of his arms, albeit with a measure of indolence, and Castiel carefully strapped the oximeter around Dean’s wrist. He attached the sensor and Dean wiggled his fingers experimentally.

“...Please, Dean, I need you to be _at rest_.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry. It’s just that it’s not very comfortable.” Dean looked at him coyly. “May I use your lap as a pillow? I promise I’ll be good.”

Castiel weighed his options. He could say no and move onto someone else, or...Or, he could let a very attractive sixteen-maybe-seventeen-year-old rest on his lap.

It was only _five_ minutes. He let Dean tug him onto the floor beside him.

When Dean was comfortable he made a small, satisfied sound. “Yeah, that’s nice. Thanks Cas.” He closed his eyes and his chest rose and fell peacefully. Castiel doubted he would have been able to breathe properly if Dean had kept his eyes open.

The air in the room was warmer now, and the sound of machines and weights being lifted had taken over. The smell of sweat was starting to make itself known, but beneath it, Castiel thought he could catch a faint trace of something spicy.

 _Why are you teasing me,_ Castiel thought, looking down at Dean’s face. He could see now just how freckled Dean’s skin was, how dark his lashes were. His jaw was smooth but angular and his cheekbones were delicate; a blend of masculine and feminine.

Castiel kept his arms firmly by his side, resisting the temptation to thread his fingers though Dean’s cropped, light-brown hair. He briefly flirted with the fantasy of massaging his fingers in slow circles against Dean’s scalp. In it, he would cradle Dean’s head reverently, lightly stroking Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. He would murmur soft words of praise; Dean was beautiful.

Five minutes passed all too fast.

Castiel took Dean’s reading from the oximeter and wrote it down on his clipboard. “I need to take your standing pulse,” Castiel said. “Then we can go over to the treadmill.”

“What experiment are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Heart rate and recovery,” Castiel replied promptly. He ushered Dean over to a free machine and invited him to step onto it. Dean pressed the ‘automatic start’ button and began to walk at a leisurely pace. The pulse oximeter was still attached to his hand, so there was no further set up required.

About a minute after Dean started walking he asked “What’s your favourite colour?”

 “Green,” Castiel said. It wasn’t a lie, because green was his new favourite colour.

“Food?”

“Burgers.”

This made Dean smile; perhaps he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Cats or dogs?”

“...Cats.”

“TV show?”

“I watch the discovery channel. I like programs about the ocean.”

“What grade are you in? How come I’ve never see you out on the field?”

“Nine, “ Castiel replied. “I don’t play on any of the sports teams.”

“Ever thought about trying soccer?”

“No,” Castiel said truthfully. “I’m not particularly interested in it.”

Castiel took the reading of Dean’s pulse rate and increased the speed of the treadmill. Dean adjusted accordingly, moving into a loping jog without effort. He fixed his eyes on a spot of wall in front of him.

“...You’re Sam’s brother.”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Sam is in grade eight; Winchester. It’s on your shirt.”

“Like the gun,” Dean said proudly. “Your name’s pretty cool too. _Castiel.”_

Castiel felt a thrill, like electricity going through him when Dean said his name properly. “Like the angel,” he supplied.

“This test is kind of easy. How many minutes now?”

“Just four,” Castiel said. He stepped up to the side of the treadmill and set it to the last speed, a running pace. He may have increased it a little more than he was supposed to though. He smiled at Dean teasingly. “Have at it.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose as the pace increased quickly. Now he was actually working. His legs pumped and his brow furrowed in concentration. His nostrils flared as he started to take more air into his lungs.

Castiel watched, hypnotized, as a trickle of sweat from Dean’s hairline traced his jaw and rolled down his neck, disappearing down his shirt.

“What’s the reading?” Castiel asked.

Dean lifted his arm to look at the pulse oximeter. “Uh... there’s nothing on the screen any more. I think it’s out of batteries.”

“Okay, come off the treadmill.”

Castiel pressed a button to end the workout and pulled his stopwatch from his pocket. “Give me your wrist,” he commanded. He wanted the results to be as accurate as possible so he had to get a reading quickly before Dean’s heart rate slowed down again.

Dean offered his wrist, palm up, and Castiel took it, circling his fingers around the joint, but he couldn’t find Dean’s pulse.

“ _Here_ ,” Dean insisted, taking Castiel’s hand and pressing it firmly against his warm neck. “It’s much stronger.”

Dean held Castiel’s hand against his throat, gradually guiding Castiel’s hand until he was cupping Dean’s cheek with his two fingers pressed against the pulse point on Dean’s neck.

Dean’s lips were parted and he was panting heavily. He reached for Castiel and curled his fingers around Castiel’s wrist.

They were standing so close now that Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his face. Dean’s body radiated heat, and the spicy scent that Castiel had briefly noticed earlier returned, enticing him. He felt himself sway as if pulled into Dean’s orbit.

“So Cas,” Dean said, voice husky, “There’s something I gottah know. I saw you watching me...and I’m curious; are you into guys?” he leaned closer. “Do you think I’m hot?”

Castiel startled. Dean’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly.

“Do you think I’m hot?” Dean asked again, insistently.

“I-” Castiel felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Have you been _messing_ with me?”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said. Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Okay, _yes_ , but only because I think you’re interesting. You should go out with me. You know- if you think I’m hot. _Do you_?”

“You’re very crude. You do know that?”

“I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s wrist, reminding Castiel of the finger on his pulse.

“I don’t know anything about you,” Castiel said. “Why am I interesting?”

Dean rolled his eyes a little. “My favourite colour is blue, I like pie. I prefer dogs but I don’t hate cats. My favourite TV show is Dr. Sexy MD, but if anyone else were asking I’d probably say Sky sports or something. I’m seventeen next January and I play soccer. I think you’re cute.”

Dean was looking at him expectantly.

“...If I say yes will you let me finish my science project?” Castiel asked finally.

Dean’s shoulders slumped and he let go of Castiel. He dropped his hand back to his side. “You know what? It’s cool. I get it. Sorry.” He ducked his chin. “I guess I just read you wrong. It happens. I guess I’ll just, um, leave you to your science...thing...” He dropped his eyes and looked away, unintentionally turning his cheek into Castiel’s palm.

Castiel felt surprising affection welling up in him. He decided, right then, that he thought Dean was helplessly adorable, and an exquisite feeing of gentleness bloomed in his heart. Smiling slightly, he drew Dean’s head toward him and stood up a little on his toes to tell him so. He grazed Dean’s earlobe with his teeth on an impulse, and felt Dean’s full body shiver. “Yes, I think you’re attractive,” he breathed, feeling his cheeks flame at his own boldness. He heard Dean’s breath hitch.

“Awesome,” Dean said, smiling beatifically. “You want to do something after school?”

\---

Balthazar ambled over while Castiel was putting his equipment away.

“So, do you want to write up the results together in the library?” he asked.

“Can’t,” Castiel replied, smiling, “I’ve got a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea in science class - taking someone's pulse could be rather sexy. I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but I think I managed to thrash it out to some extent. I'm very concious of the words 'eyes' 'looking'/'look' 'gazed' and 'glanced'. I think the problem with Destiel is that I want them to be comunicating with their eyes all the time, but I don't want to be repetitive.
> 
> I guess my fantasy would be Castiel as a physical trainer, putting Dean though his paces, and having Dean be pliant and willing to please. He'd be warm and pressing himself into Castiel's touch, eager to demonstrate his physical fitness and endurance. This is not that fic... But if anyone has any ideas on how to pull it off, link me.


End file.
